Go Out Fighting 2: Serendipity
by chezchuckles
Summary: COMPLETE Kate Beckett tries to recover while Castle prepares for the worst: someone is still after the Detective and will stop at nothing to silence her. Now that Castle knows his identity, he's in the line of fire. Spoilers S3 Finale; SEQUEL.
1. Chapter 1

**Serendipity**

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><p><strong>Note<strong>: The events in Serendipity occur a few weeks after **Go Out Fighting**. It is not necessary, plot-wise, to have read that story in order to understand this one, but it does lay the foundation for the relationship events that occur in this one.

This is for carolina17, because you know I can't resist a challenge; and all the reviewers who have left such amazing, insightful, lovely words about the things I've written, whether anonymously, critically, gushingly, or belatedly. You just don't know what it means to me.

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><p>serendipity:<p>

-the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way

-the "sagacity" of being able to link together apparently innocuous facts to come to a valuable conclusion

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

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><p>"Chance favors the prepared mind."<p>

-Louis Pasteur

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><p>When they came for her, she wasn't prepared.<p>

When they came for her, she was in a hospital bed without her weapon, with her blood singing sweet nothings to her brain, with her body weighed down by tubes, tape, stitches, and sheets, with agony still etched into her marrow like scrimshaw.

When they came for, she wasn't prepared.

But Richard Castle was.

She had a dream. She was on a ship, she wore a dress and boots that snapped up past her ankles. She was in a corset that was too tight and she had trouble taking deep breaths. The ship was being. . .attacked by pirates. That was reason for the violent shuddering of the floor beneath her feet. She had no weapon. She shouldn't have a weapon if she was on a ship, with pirates, with an ocean out there, wearing a corset. Should she?

So she grabbed the baby, the little baby, whose baby was it? She grabbed the baby to protect it and ran towards the bathroom.

Which wasn't strange at all in the dream. That the bathroom, the modern, tiled bathroom would be on a ship. Someone had been drawing a bath; the water sloshed. She locked the door (there was a deadbolt, inexplicably) and she felt her heart pounding, so hard, so fast that her whole body shook. So hard, pounding, thundering through her veins in time to the shaking of the floor.

The baby was now toddler-sized. And a boy. Not a girl. The boy climbed into the bath, the water up to his knees. Kate reached over and shut off the water and the silence was wrong. She shivered, felt the constriction of her chest in the corset, and wished she could take it off. Not really a good time to be changing clothes though.

She felt the ship shudder and then heard the crunch of boards, the scream of metal. The ship had been rammed by pirates. She heard their laughter, felt their many bodies hitting the deck, their feet pounding. She climbed into the bathtub after the boy, yanked the shower curtain closed to hide.

If she had her weapon.

She leaned over and put her head between her knees, trying to breathe. She fumbled at the stays of her dress, tried to loosen them, but couldn't find relief; the strings were knotted and damp.

The boy shivered in the water. The hem of Kate's dress dragged her down; she sank to her knees, put her forehead on the cool tub. The smell of water and porcelain, the faint hint of chemical, filled her mouth, made her throat convulse. She clamped her hand over her mouth, shoulders hitched, scrambled out of the bathtub to get to the toilet.

She vomited; the smell of stale urine and cleaning fluids brought it up again, and she heaved over the bowl, unable to get her breath. She choked, felt the wet dress against her back like a heavy hand, pushing her down. The sounds of pirates above her head. The groan of the ship breaking up.

She threw up again. Gasped for breath. She clawed at the dress, tried to peel it off of her.

The boy was at her elbow. He looked familiar. He was wet now too, and patting her awkwardly on the back. She pushed him away, tried to tell him to hide, but couldn't talk for the acid burning the back of her throat, her vocal cords. He looked familiar, and sad, and he stood up and headed for the door.

She lunged for him, tripped over the dress, and watched in horror as he opened the door to a pirate.

"No!" she yelled.

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><p>Castle, on his feet, captured her flailing arms, pressed her wrists together with one hand so he could press the other to her shoulder, keep her immobilized. Already a nurse was entering the room, alerted by her heart rate, and she stooped over to check Kate's pupils, her breathing, looked at the IV bag.<p>

Kate bucked, made a mewling noise as the movement caused her pain.

"Is she dreaming?" Castle asked, starting to feel a little panicked.

"Looks like," the nurse said and reached for Kate's chart. "Sometimes people have these kind of reactions to the anesthesia and the painkillers. Bad dreams, almost like night terrors. It might be hard to get her. . .out of it."

"Kate," he said, leaning in close, putting an arm across her body to hold her to the bed. The nurse on the last shift had warned him that if Kate thrashed around a lot, she'd have to put her in restraints to keep her from tearing the stitches. "Kate, wake up. You're okay. It's just a dream."

His voice sounded strange to his own ears; he'd been sitting in silence so long, unable to speak, unable to talk to her like the doctors had suggested. If he talked to her, he'd make a fool of himself; he'd blubber and break down.

Her eyes rolled under her lids; he felt her fingers twitching, clawing at something, then at him. He winced as her nails caught his tricep, a fresh, stinging line down the skin; he wondered if it was bleeding.

"Kate. Wake up."

She surged up on a shout, her mouth open and round, her eyes watching some horror, her body trying to arch under his arm. Castle caressed the side of her face, tried to soothe the look from her eyes, tried not to be afraid for her. But she was awake.

She blinked, her body lowered a little. Her features contorted into a rictus of pain; she gasped and jerked with it, her hands flying up to clutch at his arm, her nails digging into his skin.

"Hurts," she gasped, and her eyes flicker to his, lock there, unrelenting.

"I know it does. I know, I'm sorry," he whispered. They'd done this before. How many times would she wake up like this? How many times would he have to see her like this? The stripped away Beckett, the vulnerable Kate. He hated it. He hated it. He'd been an arrogant son of a bitch, wanting to see this, wanting to know every last detail about her. It wasn't right; no one should be able to see this deep into someone.

The nurse squeezed the IV bag a little. "She's still got an hour before I can change this," she said glancing at the clock in the room, then back to the chart. "Kate. Can you tell me how bad the pain is? 1 to 10."

Kate whimpered, her whole body tense under his arm, still clutching at him. She was looking dead at him, no longer even pleading, just riding it out.

"Just do something," he growled and jerked his head to look at the nurse.

Kate's body spasmed and she closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. "10. 10. 10."

"I'll call the doctor; see what he says we can do." The nurse reached for the bedside phone. Castle wished Ana, the nurse from the trauma unit was still with them. But at least Kate was in the step-down unit now; at least the tentative nurse here meant that Beckett was supposedly getting better.

Slowly.

He'd done this all before. Yesterday. Earlier today maybe. Before. The bullet's damage might be healing, but her pain didn't get any better. They were trying to ween her off the medication. She'd been in the step-down unit for a week. The physical therapy sessions were scheduled for tomorrow. She needed to be better than this.

"Kate, just breathe. Don't hold your breath," he warned, stroking his fingers along her cheekbone, trying to be gentle.

"Pirates," she moaned.

"What?" Castle cradled her head, pressed a kiss to her forehead. "No pirates. Just breathe. There you go." She took in a shuddering, shallow breath under his arm and he eased off of her a little bit. "There you go. Breathe. It will get better."

"The boy."

"Just us, Kate. No pirates."

She hitched in her breath, let it out shakily. "What?"

"No pirates here. Breathe."

"Pirates?"

And she was awake. He grinned and kissed her cheek, releasing a breath into her hair he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Nothing. You had a dream."

"Get off me, Castle." Her fingers curled along his arm. "I can't breathe."

"Yeah." He removed his arm, grinning at her again, so relieved it hurt.

She laid in the bed, eyes open but fixed on the ceiling, fists clenched, and rode out the pain in silence. The drugs gave her nightmares, made her jerk and twitch and thrash in her sleep, which sometimes did damage to the places still healing. With the movement and the damage came more pain. Which meant they took it slower, the medication hitting a plateau, which just caused more nightmares. A vicious cycle.

At least pirates weren't so bad. Not as bad as the one in which she'd been sobbing his name, not as bad as the one in which she'd thought he had tried to kill her and she struggled to get away from him. Not as bad as the ones in which she relived every shooting, every almost, every could have been, every blood-filled memory.

Not as bad as the one where she cried out for her mother.

At least this was just pirates.

She always made him tell her the dreams; she could see it in his face, probably, and she had the renewal of her agony to tell her she'd been having a nightmare. "This time?" she said on a grunt, still tense with the effort of keeping the pain at bay.

"Pirates. You said pirates."

"Ah. Anything else?"

"Nope. Oh, a boy?"

"Hm," she murmured and her body eased a little.

"Better?"

"Getting there."

He reached out and took her hand, cradled it. Her fingers relaxed into his palm; he spread them out, stroking down each digit until the rest of her body started to melt back into the bed. After a time, she curled her fingers around his and tugged.

Castle stood up and sat on the bed next to her hip, their hands linked between them.

A shuffling noise intruded. Castle saw the nurse heading back into the room. "Sorry, Dr. Reid doesn't want to add any more juice to the mix."

Kate let out a breath. "Don't want any more."

"You said it was a ten."

"I did?"

Castle and the nurse exchanged a look. "Well, your wish has come true." The nurse checked the IV line and the insertion point in the back of Kate's hand. "Looks good. Didn't rip out the line. I noticed the cop is gone out there. They catch the guy?"

Castle jerked away from the bed, releasing Kate's hand so he could run into the hall. She was right. The officer stationed outside Kate's room was gone. He glanced around, heard a door closing, the sound of a nurse at the nurse's station. No one in the waiting room; her father had left Castle on duty this morning.

He pulled out his cell phone and texted the boys for an update. If they had caught the guy, wouldn't that have been big news? The guy from Montgomery's damaging file; the guy behind all of this; the guy he hadn't yet told Kate Beckett about.

_Because she's hardly conscious for long enough to tell her anyway._

That's what he told himself. But if the protection detail had gotten pulled, Esposito and Ryan would've been down here themselves. Castle would have a text message about it.

His phone came to life and he opened a message from Alexis.

_Where are you?_

Castle turned back towards Kate's room, confused by Alexis's message. He'd just seen her not twenty minutes ago; she'd been the one to wake him up this morning and remind him that Kate's father wouldn't be there, that it was his turn for Kate duty.

Strange. He opened up a reply, pushing on the door to Kate's room, trying to text with one hand. Just as he did, he heard the click of the door again, far down the hall. The door to the stairs. And paired with that noise was the sound of something else, a click he heard right before the boys raided a warehouse or apartment building for a suspect.

The safety coming off.

The officer outside her room was gone.

Kate was already yanking lines out of her body when he came back in at a rush; battling the nurse, battling her body, her lips pressed into a thin line of rage and determination. Instead of pressing her back into the bed, Castle yanked the sheets off her body, pushing the nurse out of his way, reached under the bed for her shoes and shoved them on her feet.

"What are you doing? Have you gone crazy?" The nurse slapped at his hands.

He had a thought, ran to the window and looked out; he could hear Kate trying to fight off the nurse. The black and white stationed just outside the hospital's back entrance was gone. "The car is gone, Kate."

He looked over at her, face grim and pale, and felt the weight of it settle into his bones. He turned to the nurse still trying to keep Kate in the bed. "You need to get out of here, get out of her room; it's not safe," Castle said. "Someone's coming. The uniform outside is gone, Kate; the car is gone."

"Help me get this," Kate panted.

He wanted to be gentle, but they didn't have time. He ripped the oxygen tube from her nose, untangled it from her hair, threw it down. Forget the shoes.

"You've got to stop this." The nurse had picked up the phone to call security, a doctor, someone. Castle didn't have time.

"Go to the nurse's station. Get Claire, get whoever else is on duty tonight; hide. Promise me you'll hide."

"You can't do this-"

Kate was already trying to get her legs over the side of the bed, using both hands to drag her left thigh up and over, shoes untied. Castle turned back to her, peeled the tape off her hand, hesitant about the IV bag, but went ahead and jerked the line out as well. She shivered violently; her face was a mask of pain.

"Stop, Kate." He gathered her against his chest and lifted, his back screaming at him to use his knees, and got her up off the bed. It took some maneuvering to get her over the bed rails, and then he was heading for the door at a jog.

The nurse was behind him.

He stopped, glanced down the hall, felt very vulnerable like this. They were on one end of a long corridor. Lots of rooms between him and the elevators, him and the stairs.

"Stairs?" he asked, glanced down at Kate. The nurse had a hand on his arm, trying to detain him or something.

Kate shook her head. "He'd used the stairs."

Her body was tight with pain against his chest; he couldn't be gentle and also get her out of here. He stepped into the hall, gave the nurse a little shove with his shoulder.

"Go find Claire. Call the police. Hide."

"C-castle," Kate gasped.

She was heavy, so tense and rigid in his arms, dragging him down. He crushed her against him as best he could, started for the elevators in the main shorter end of the bisecting corridor, just past the nurses' station. "There are stairs by the elevators too," he said, remembering. "Stairs at either end of this hall, and stairs by the elevators. What do I do?"

She groaned. "Stairs, far stairs. He'll use-" She cried out as he started to run. "-he'll use the ones by the elevator or the ones closest to my room."

"But not the far stairs. Got it. Sorry, Kate. I know it hurts."

She buried her head against his shoulder, one hand against her stomach, one curled in his shirt. He jogged to the main corridor, stopped before clearing it, poked his head around. One elevator was open on their floor. The other was on the move. He saw a shadow of movement through the window set into the stairway door just past the bank of elevators.

He sprinted across the open area, past the nurses' desk. The nurse, he couldn't remember that woman's name, and Claire, they were nowhere in sight. He wasn't sure he'd been believed. That was fine too; they'd call security, the cops, someone official.

While Kate's end of the hall, a short hall, had been cleared of patients just for security's sake, this end held rooms of sick people. Some of the doors were open, some closed. People stared at them as he ran. A man called out. A nurse yelled at him. It wasn't Claire; he didn't know her. He heard a strange pop, felt the blowback as pieces of the wall exploded near his elbow.

"Castle," she bit out, her chin pressed into his clavicle painfully. "Gun!"

"I've got you," he panted and used his foot to kick into the bar handle across the fire door, shoved his shoulder into the space to get through it quickly, felt the spit of plaster against his left cheek. He heard his phone clatter against the floor; it had fallen out of the pocket he'd hastily shoved it into.

He slid to a stop as the door banged shut behind him. Saw the metal dent inwards, the small fist of a bullet. Damn. He couldn't go back now.

Castle turned to the stairs. She gasped and her hand, trapped between them, clutched at his shirt, scraped his skin. He glanced down and saw she'd been crying; she was still crying. He didn't have time to stop, to be gentle; he jogged down the first set of stairs.

She cried out. "No. Up, up, Up."

He reversed direction, took the steps two at a time without looking, fear and adrenaline surging him upward, upward. "What are we doing Kate?"

She was hanging on to him with both hands, curled in on herself as the pain took her in waves. "Get out. Here."

"Just one floor up, you mean? Get out-"

"Yesss," she hissed, closed her eyes.

"Hey, damn it. Kate. Don't pass out on me." He lifted a knee and shoved it into the push-bar of the door, leaned, banged his hip into it to pop it open.

"Not, not passing out," she said, breathless. "Don't. . .curse at me."

He laughed, strangled and desperate sounding, and jogged down the hall back towards the elevators. One floor up and it looked exactly the same. Mostly closed doors on this one. Cute balloons. Pink, blue. A small isolette-

"Oh no," he cursed under his breath. "Maternity. Not good. Kate, it's the maternity floor-"

But she had her face pressed into his shoulder again; he felt her teeth against him. She was grunting against the cloth of his shirt; he felt the reverberations of the sound in his bones. And then she went limp.

Passed out.

Unconscious Kate was harder to hold; he jogged down the corridor and she bounced gracelessly in his arms, her head lolling back. At the nurses' station, he didn't even bother to look at them. He needed to get ahold of Esposito, Ryan, somebody. He needed help. He needed to hide.

Maternity. Damn it. He had to hide them. He couldn't run out of the hospital with her like this; she needed doctors, nurses, pain meds. But he was putting them all in danger by being on this floor, stupidly circling around in the middle of the main corridor, but where else-

A nurse grabbed him by the shoulder. Castle spun around, panic clawing at his throat. "I need an empty room. Please-"

"What are you doing, sir? You need to-"

"She's a police officer. Someone is trying to kill her. I need an empty room. Right now!"

The nurse only gaped at him.

"A phone. Someone have a phone? I need a phone."

Three pairs of eyes just stared at him; one hand reached for a landline, but he couldn't wait around out here. The guy would be after them. Up or down, either way, eventually, he'd check the floors, see them here-

Castle bolted for the short corridor that mirrored Kate's a floor below. The guy would go for the stairs at the far end, come up or down those after them. He'd need quick access to stairs if it came to it; but for now, Castle wanted a hiding place. He needed a room, an empty room.

The nurses would call security, that was good. They'd follow him, most likely, which wasn't good. He needed a phone. He needed to get a call to Esposito.

He'd known this was coming. He'd seen the inevitable outcome the moment the NYPD had placed officers outside Kate's ICU room.

He hadn't expected it to happen this fast; but he did have a plan in place.

He needed a phone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Serendipity**

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><p>"If fate means you to lose, give him a good fight anyhow."<p>

-William McFee

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><p>His arms were killing him. His shoulder screamed; the sockets wrenched with every step. He needed to put her down; he needed to find a place to hide, just until he could come up with an exit strategy.<p>

Castle shifted onto one foot and lifted his knee, balancing her weight on his thigh for a moment, giving his arms some relief. Beckett was still out cold, and he was grateful for her sake, but her dead weight might do them in.

He glanced down the short corridor of the maternity ward, then took off for what looked like an empty room. The door was open, no cutesy little tag decorated the outside. Most of the rooms looked to be double occupancy, and when Castle bungled his way into this one, there was a sleeping form in the bed closest to the door.

He balked, but his heart was pounding, blood or fear or adrenaline roaring in his head. He didn't have time to change his mind; he shuffled to the far side of the room and eased Beckett onto the bed, his arms shaking so badly that he couldn't pull the sheet up at first.

Beckett groaned, curled in a ball on her side where he laid her, but she might be coming around soon. He wished she'd wake up; he needed her input on this.

The woman sleeping on the other side of the room had her hands curled up under her chin, her hair ragged and unwashed. Honestly, Kate didn't look much better; honestly, Kate probably looked worse. Castle yanked the sheet up over her, turned her a little so she wasn't facing the door.

He pulled the curtain halfway between the beds, then quick-stepped back to the door, his mouth dry. Castle glanced out, and the nurses were in a huddle at the main station, gesturing. Would they tip off the shooter with their activity? He had to take that chance; he couldn't carry the detective out of the hospital.

Hearing the click of a door, Castle took a wild glance back towards the stairs just past their adopted room. Nothing. His hands were shaking again; his legs weak. He wanted to sit down, but he needed a phone.

And a better hiding place. Lacking that, he needed to disguise their tracks.

Castle ducked across the hall, took one of the "It's a Boy" balloons attached to the room number, then tied its string around their door handle. Now the room didn't look so abandoned. He slid down the hall a couple of feet, ripped a shiny decal off a door that already had too many "Welcome Baby" accoutrements, and then slapped it on as well.

His heart still thudded like a mallet, but his hands weren't shaking. The sleeping woman (medicated perhaps) was still curled on one side, but this time when Castle came back inside, he realized that the woman's newborn was in a crib thing just to her left side.

He froze, the air whooshing out of his body like a sucker punch. What was he doing? He was putting everyone on this floor in jeopardy by hiding out here; he shouldn't be bringing this danger here.

And yet, what choice did he have? The baby was mewling a little, but the woman hadn't moved. She looked, despite her haggard appearance, younger than he'd first assumed. Castle glanced to the doorway, then reached out a hand and clasped the edge of the isolette. For a moment, his mouth filled with sour saliva, his stomach heaved in reprobation.

And then Castle drew the baby into the middle of the room, closer to Kate's side, completing their camouflage.

The baby, rocked by the motion of the move, smacked its lips and screwed up its face, but didn't wake.

Castle sagged into a chair, put his head between his knees, tried to breathe without throwing up. The baby was out of the direct line of sight from the door, but if someone happened to step inside, check the whole room, first glance would range over all three of them, the two women, the baby, and things would appear as they should: two women who'd given birth.

Castle rubbed a hand down his face and glanced up. He didn't like being hidden from the door, but presumably, the shooter knew what Castle looked like. Beckett was turned on the bed, in much the same position as the mother on her side, her face hidden from view.

His eyes focused and his senses returned. He could hear the nurses outside, checking rooms, probably looking for them as well. Would security stand a chance against a hired killer? Where was the officer who'd been stationed outside of Kate's room? He knew the hospital security chief had been informed of Kate's protective detail, had worked closely with the NYPD to maintain a tight perimeter.

As soon as the nurse brought the security guard in to face them, he'd explain. No problem. He could talk his way out of anything; he was confident in that. They just had to lay low until he could get to Esposito.

The phone. He needed a phone.

Castle stood up quietly, went to Beckett's side and gently moved her arm away from her gunshot wound. He hesitantly probed at the gauze on her stomach. Some seepage, no blood stains, not soaked through even. That was good. But no pain killers, no IV, no oxygen. Not good. He needed to get her back into care as soon as possible.

Beckett's lids fluttered, but with her knees drawn up on her side, she didn't seem able to move or wake.

He let his eyes roam the room and spotted the sleeping woman's personal items, bundled together under her bed. The writer in him had already concocted a story explaining her isolation at the end of the hall, her lack of visitors or decorations. The presence of the newborn in the room had altered the story somewhat, made him revise the details, but the idea was still there.

No one else cared for her. A woman alone, facing motherhood without family or-

Not right now. Focus. Find a phone.

Castle slipped across the room and hunched at the side of the bed, not easily visible from the door. He pulled out a sweater, slowly, keeping his hands steady. Then a bundle of clothing that was wet and. . .oh disgusting. These were the clothes she'd come in with, most likely.

Castle dropped those and reached for the plastic bag sitting underneath everything. He wondered if she were homeless, her things in the bag like this, or maybe she'd come in through the ER and the nurses had taken her stuff and bagged it up. He sifted through the collection, hoping, and was rewarded.

Cell phone. Burner phone, it looked like. One of those pay as you go things. He flipped it open and pressed the power button on the keypad. He held his breath until it came on, then scuttled back over to Kate's side, the phone clutched to his chest.

Castle's hands were shaking again as he stared at the phone. It took a supreme effort of will to recall Esposito's number; he cursed himself for his laziness in not memorizing it earlier. He knew Kate's by heart, if only from staring at it, debating whether or not he should call her. But Esposito's? Ryan's? Even his own mother's number was fuzzy.

He put in the number slowly, studied it. Castle pressed send and held the phone against his ear, moving to stand over Kate at the bed, a hand falling to her hip. She wasn't supposed to lay on her side, but he was afraid that the shooter would come looking for them and spot her, plus he wasn't sure uncurling her would be a good idea either.

The phone picked up.

"Yeah?"

Castle hesitated, watching Kate breathe as if mesmerized, and then realized that this wasn't Esposito.

"Wrong number," he mumbled and disconnected. He glanced at the display, thought maybe he'd switched two numbers, so he redialed. This time it was Esposito who answered.

"Hello?"

"Espo? It's me, Castle. Listen-"

"Dude, what the hell is going on?"

"You gotta get over here, you and Ryan-"

"Hospital security is calling us, bro. The officer assigned to Kate's door was found in the stairwell; he's in the ER with a broken neck. The guy we picked up at Montgomery's funeral; he's dead. Someone shot him in the forehead, point blank."

"That someone came upstairs for Kate," he said, tracing the line of her arm with his palm, reassured by the warmth of her skin. "They shot at us as I got her out of the room. I need help, Esposito. And I need you to make sure my family-"

"We got that covered already. Two feds went to your place as soon as we heard about the guy downstairs. Tell me where you are."

"Just you and Ryan, swear it to me. Swear it."

"Of course. One-Lincoln-Forty. You know it."

Upon hearing their safe word, which was also Beckett's call sign, Castle released his clenched fist, his body trembling as the tension began to drain out of his nervous system. "We're one floor up, Espo. Maternity."

"Shit."

"Yeah. I couldn't-I didn't know what else to do. Kate said to go up, we went up, and now I don't know what to do-"

"Where's the boss?"

"Out cold. What do I need to do, Esposito?"

"The guy will be looking for you, casual-like. He doesn't have much time and he knows it. He won't look too long. Hide up somewhere on that floor."

"We're hidden."

"Good. Not in a closet are you?"

Castle laughed, thankful for it, his gratitude falling over him in a wave, knocking him off his feet. He sat down hard on the bed beside Kate and pressed his fingers to his forehead.

"Not a closet. Where are you?"

"We're already rolling, bro. Ryan and me. ETA 10. Can you hold out?"

"I don't-" Castle's throat was clogged; he tried again. "I don't know. Get here fast. The nurses on Kate's floor might need-"

"Ryan's on with dispatch. Got people headed for them. Boss okay?"

He nodded even though Esposito couldn't possibly see him. "Okay. But she's got no IV, no meds." Castle swallowed down the urge to ask Esposito what he should do; he wanted someone to tell him what to do to save her.

"Ten minutes, Castle."

"Did you. . .was there a break in this thing?"

Esposito was silent for a long second. "You told Beckett yet?"

"Not yet."

"No break. Just. . .movement, bro."

"It spooked him."

"We're getting too close."

Castle closed his eyes, felt too vulnerable like that, and opened them again. Kate was stirring under his hand; he felt the moment she woke, her body stiffening.

"Beckett."

She jerked with sudden awareness, curled tighter around her stomach, breathing out a moan.

"She okay?"

"Esposito, call me back on this number when you get here."

"Check."

He ended the call and leaned in close to Kate; she had both arms curled at her chest.

"Breathe. We're safe for now. Esposito and Ryan are on their way. Breathe, Kate."

"Try-trying," she panted, then opened her eyes. Her beautiful, pain-laced eyes. "Oh god, Castle, you're bleeding-"


	3. Chapter 3

Serendipity

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><p>"Every man has the right to risk his own life in order to preserve it. Has it ever been said that a man who throws himself out the window to escape from a fire is guilty of suicide?"<p>

-Jean-Jacques Rousseau

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><p>"It's nothing," he said, jerking his hand to his cheek and coming away with blood.<p>

She couldn't lift her arm high enough to reach him, but her eyes were limned with her concern. "Not nothing."

The searing burn of the gash reached him then, and he swiped at his face again, felt the puckered flesh of an open wound. "Ricochet."

"From what?" she gasped, struggling against his arms weakly, trying to sit up. "From a bullet?"

He looked at his soaked fingers rather disinterestedly, blinked through a haze that filmed over his eyes for a moment. "Yes."

"Castle. It's. . .all the way to your ear," she whispered, lifting her hand again, her arm trembling. Concern for him might push out her own pain, but her body was refusing to cooperate he saw. "You ear is a mess."

"I'll clean it up later," he murmured and leaned down to carefully shift her higher up the back of the raised bed. "Keep on your side, though, away from the door."

"What. . .where are we?" Beckett cast her eyes around the room, stiffened the moment she saw the baby. "Castle."

"I know. We're on maternity. We're stuck here for now. I can't-"

"Not good," she said, pushing with a fist against the bed, her arm trembling.

"Stop it, Beckett," he muttered, knocking her arm out from under her. She fell back into his grasp; her lips were white with pain. "Don't move. I don't want you to make it worse."

"Can't get much worse than this," she said, and her eyes closed tight.

"Tearing or spasms?"

"Both?"

"Yeah, not good," he agreed.

"Tell me what's going on," she muttered.

"Kate."

"*Distract* me, Castle," she barked and pressed her forehead against his wrist. He thought her could feel her teeth on his forearm.

He wanted to tell her not to hold her breath but instead he glanced again at the newborn in the bassinet, and his hands trembled. "I came up one flight, got out here. Nurses hassled me, I ran down to the opposite end to hide us-"

"Are we directly above my room?"

"Just about. Across the hall, actually. By the stairs."

"Good; stairs are good," she said and leaned away from his hand. "Esposito? Ryan-"

"On their way. Five minutes or so."

"You're bleeding on me," she whispered, her eyes overshadowed.

Castle glanced down, saw the fat drops dotting her neck; he raised his hand again, felt the smear of hot stickiness along the side of his face.

"Castle, please go clean that up-"

"I'm not leaving you here, Beckett. Defenseless."

"Bathroom right over your shoulder. Just-"

"Kate." He wanted to beg her not to do this to him, but he was bleeding profusely. His head swam when he moved it too quickly.

"I'm good. I'll play dead," she whispered, a ghost of a smile stretching her lips.

"That's not funny." He stared her down, but she stared right back.

In the end, Castle couldn't say no to her, so he made his way slowly towards the door to check their status. He listened for a moment, then opened it a crack, glancing out, holding his breath. He swayed on his feet; black spots danced in front of his eyes.

Head wounds bled a lot; he'd heard that somewhere.

He blinked rapidly, bent his knees so that he could lean his head forward against the door jamb, keeping back the vertigo. He listened as he rested, trying to keep from blacking out. Commotion down the hall, the stern voice of a nurse. He eased the door a little wider and managed to get a view.

A man. Three nurses gesturing. A security guard. The guard looked willing to let the nurses take charge, and the nurses were arguing with the man.

Who was that guy? Castle hadn't caught a glimpse of the shooter, but the steady calm in the man's eyes made him afraid.

He eased the door shut again and hustled back to Kate's side, wiping a hand along his cheek and back to his ear, smearing blood. He swiped it on his jeans and hovered over her.

"Someone in the hall with the nurses. Security guard there too."

"Could be security chief," she muttered. Her eyes flickered open, and she winced. "Castle. Your ear. Doesn't look good. At least, clean it. Please."

"That guy is just down the hall. Esposito and I met the security chief for this hospital, and that ain't him. No way am I leaving you alone-"

"If he comes checking rooms, one by one, Castle-what do you think you're going to do about it?"

"No lock on the door. A chair under the handle?"

"Chair won't hold him," she spat out, her eye twitching with the pain. "You were right. Hide. All we can do. I stay on my side, curled up. You stay in the bathroom."

"No."

"He sees your face, we're both dead, Castle. Go get in there." She wheezed and struggled for a breath, not able to expand her lungs for a deeper gulp of air. Castle brushed the hair back from her eyes, untangling a strand from her lashes.

"While you stay out here? Alone? No weapon, no one to watch your back? You think I'm gonna stand in the bathroom and watch you get shot?"

"And if you stay out here?" she panted, struggling against his hands as they tried to pin her down. "You stay out here and get shot first? Do me no good dead, Castle. I'll just die next."

"No," he said, shaking his head at her. The woozy feeling returned and he went still, holding a hand up to his temple, blinking.

"Castle, please," she begged, her hand gripping his forearm, now able to pull herself up using him as leverage. "It looks bad. And you're scaring me. Please-"

He stumbled back as if hit, tried to regain his footing. She was now halfway turned over, straining forward, trying to reach him. He felt something warm trickle down his neck and swiped at another streak of blood.

Head wounds were bleeders. He'd be fine. She was staring at him with those round, dark eyes.

"I'll look at in the bathroom," he muttered and shook off her hand.

Once inside, the fluorescent light drilled into his eyeballs and he had to close his lids, grimacing. He left the door open and glanced back at Kate; she was watching him intently. After a moment, the glare died down, and he could crack an eye open, glance towards the mirror hanging above the sink.

Oh. That's why she looked so worried.

A flap of skin hung like meat in place of his left ear. Pulverized by the shooter's bullet. Perhaps that shot outside the stairwell had been closer than he'd realized. Strange that he hadn't felt it, that he didn't feel it now.

Castle reached up and gingerly poked a finger in the spot, yelped in surprise as agony fired along his nerves.

"Castle?" she hissed.

"Shouldn't've touched it," he moaned. "I'm not washing this out. It'll kill me."

"Stop whining," she muttered, but it lacked heat. Castle met her eyes in the mirror; she was chewing on her bottom lip. She'd crossed both arms around her middle, drawn up with pain.

He turned on the faucet and ducked his head under the tap, yelping as the cold water screamed needles of ice straight into his brain. He jerked in surprised pain, smacking his temple against the ceramic, bouncing off the faucet.

"Castle," she groaned. "Don't make me laugh."

"It's not funny," he grumbled back, grateful to see the flicker of her smile again, even if it was stitched on over the well-worn garment of her pain.

Castle turned off the water, scrubbed at the side of his face with two fingers until the blood's path had melted away. He still had that angry swipe along his cheek that seared into his ear, but he wasn't touching that.

When he lifted up for another glance in the mirror, he heard the throaty, cut-off scream of someone in the far hall, and then the unmistakeable thud of dead weight hitting the floor.

Castle twisted sharply in the bathroom and ran back to her side. "Kate!"

"I heard it," she whispered. He'd never seen that fear in her face before.

"Forget it; let's both hide in the bathroom. Right now-"

Beckett shook her head at him with a glimmer of regret in her eyes. "I don't think I can."

"What? Why? Beckett, come on, get up-"

She unlaced her hands from her abdomen, revealing the spreading blood stain. It had soaked through the bandages, mottled the hospital gown. "I think getting out of this bed would be a bad idea," she whispered.

"Okay. All right," he said, blinking to clear his vision. His head throbbed now, hot and pulsing. The cold water seemed to have only awakened his nerves to the damage. What now?

"Do the best we can," she said grimly. Had she heard him? "Her robe is hanging on the bathroom door. Hand it over."

Castle twisted back, tripping over his feet, but he grabbed the pink robe and helped Kate slide it on over her arms. The nurses had cut her hair short when she'd been in ICU, easier to take care of, and it now barely touched the collar of that ugly robe. Castle eased Kate onto her side, being careful to support her weight fully, then stroked his hand over her forehead. The robe changed her shape, made her look unlike herself.

He heard a door bang open and the shriek of a patient; Castle hunched his shoulders and waited, but he heard no shot, no body falling. He hoped, God please, he hoped the shooter was stopping only long enough to look.

It was his fault the shooter was here now; Castle had led him here.

"In the bathroom," Kate whispered, her eyes squeezed shut with pain. "Now."

"Kate-"

"Don't you dare argue this with me, Castle. I'm the cop; you're the civilian." Even with her eyes screwed up tight in pain, she was insistent and fierce.

He glanced to the door, back to Kate. He heard the shooter bang open another door. How far away was that? Was he picking up speed now? Another door kicked open, this time the shouts of a man, a new father perhaps. Oh God, please-

A body dropping, screaming, the ear-piercing screech of an awakened baby. Newly orphaned?

Castle bowed his head over Kate, couldn't bear to leave her alone in this bed with the shooter stalking ever closer.

The sound of another door shoved in. Silence. No shrieks. No baby crying.

"Right now. Damn it. Right now, Castle!" She shoved weakly on his forearms as they held him up over her. "Go."

He couldn't. He just couldn't. He glanced around the room. When the guy opened this door, he'd see the woman in her bed, Kate's back, the baby-

His chest squeezed.

Castle left Kate's side and tugged on the bassinet, pulling it around the bed so that it was partially shielded by Kate's back. The best he could do. She reached out a trembling hand and touched the side of the bassinet; he nudged it a little closer and her fingers splayed along the baby's tiny hand.

Castle turned his back, closed his eyes.

"You'll get us both killed if you stay out here, in plain sight," she said, and her voice was the strongest he'd heard it since she'd been shot. Strong. Resolute. Firm.

Castle was used to obeying her orders, so his body was turning towards the open bathroom, even then. He paused and glanced back to Kate; she had eyes only for the newborn, still asleep even through the intermittent shrieks punctuating the silences.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, the most he could reach at this angle, felt the brush of her sticky-fingered hand across his cheek. Her palm left a faint bloodied print against his tshirt.

"Go." She swiped the heel of her hand down his shirt, as if she could wipe it off. He caught her hand and laid it back down on her side. She was still touching the baby's small hand.

"I'm going," he sighed and slipped towards the bathroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Serendipity

* * *

><p>"The right time is any time that one is still so lucky as to have."<p>

-Henry James

* * *

><p>He hated hiding out in the bathroom; all his instincts screamed against it. But she was right. Not because she was a cop, but because the shooter would be looking for them both, and just another woman in a bed on the maternity floor wouldn't arouse interest like Castle standing guard over her bed would.<p>

He couldn't hear a thing standing in this tiled prison. His hands trembled when he brought them up to his head; Castle tried to clear the lingering haze by pressing his palms into the bones around his eyes. Light flashed in the darkness behind his eyelids.

His head pounded. He felt blood seep down the ruined part of his ear, tickle his neck. He should get some paper towels and try to staunch the blood, but he couldn't seem to do anything but stare at the door. Waiting. His hands dropped to his side, dangling there.

Castle couldn't stand it. He eased the door open a little more, able now to see all of her in the bed. Her eyes were closed, either because she was trying to maintain the illusion of just another patient, or because the pain was so great. Might be both. Her arm was hooked over the bassinet; her hand was still curled around the baby's, the little fist having grasped Kate's thumb and latched on.

Something burned in his eyes; he had to blink through it to see her. Slowly, her lids raised, her gaze met his across the too-wide space. She didn't try to reassure him, didn't smile. They held that connection, eyes locked, because they both knew.

This might be it.

If it came down to it, he had the element of surprise on his side, and he would rush the shooter before the man could fire. He would. No matter where or how the guy came in, Castle was going to make a play for the weapon.

And Beckett knew it.

If it came down to it, hiding in plain sight relied heavily on the shooter either not having a clear idea on what either of them looked like, or being far less detail-oriented than most. And that meant they'd be found out the moment the hired gun looked in on this room. He would find them, and he would shoot.

And Castle knew it.

This was it.

He wanted to grab her, hustle her inside the bathroom and hide her away. Why couldn't he? Why was he waiting in the bathroom for the inevitable? This was ridiculous. Either the shooter was checking the bathrooms, or he wasn't. Either way, it was better to be together.

Better to go down together.

He made a move to step outside, to get her, but he froze at something in the line of her body, the flinch of a muscle. Castle couldn't hear anything, entombed like this, but he saw Kate's face when it happened. She flicked her eyes back to him, a plea and a warning both, and Castle gripped the handle of the door, pleading back.

_Not like this, Kate. Not like this._

And then he heard it, the subtle shift of a person in bed rolling over. Castle held his breath, staring at Kate, but she had closed her eyes again.

The disembodied voice floated to him, echoed off the tile in the bathroom.

"Are you the doctor?"

Slurred, drowsy, the woman in the other bed had woken up. Castle sank to his haunches and pressed his forehead against the tile, trying to breathe quietly.

"No. Go back to sleep," was the answer.

The woman mumbled something that Castle didn't catch; he saw a shadow fall across the door jamb, but still couldn't see the man standing in the center of the room. Kate's eyes were closed; her lifted arm managed to hide most of her face from anyone looking from that side of the room, but Castle could see her perfectly. His heart pounded.

"Tell them I don't want to see the baby before. . .before they take it. I don't want to know. Can you tell the nurses that?"

Castle trembled, his knees aching, trying to control his breathing. He eased the door closed, just a little more, so that the crack disappeared. He couldn't hear anything now, not even the man's deadly calm replies back to the woman. He peered into the sliver of light left, angled his head until he saw the man's black pants.

He was nearly to the bed; he was moments away from seeing Beckett's face.

Castle couldn't open the door wider without the man noticing now; he couldn't get into position. He saw the weapon in the man's left hand, at rest along the outside of the thigh, the barrel tapping. The woman in her bed had flopped back down, now she closed her eyes as well.

"Can you get me some water?" The woman lifted a hand and gestured to the pitcher next to the sink.

Something buzzed loudly and Castle stiffened. The man evidently heard it as well, because he turned slowly in the room, eyes narrowed. Castle stayed low, in the shadows, felt panic crawl into his guts.

He'd left the cell phone on Kate's bed, right at the foot. The man pivoted, tilted his head, his hand going straight for the phone.

Castle was going to have to do something. If he let the man bend down, he would see Kate for sure. He would know.

"Can't I have some water?" the woman asked again, causing the man's head to lift, looking at her.

Castle's heart was in his throat and he swallowed it down, a hand on the door knob, ready to spring.

"I'm not a nurse," the man said, clearly, and scooped the phone up without looking.

Castle flinched. The woman mumbled something and opened her eyes, as if focusing on the room for the first time.

Blood trickled down Castle's neck and pooled against his collar, sticky and hot. He shivered; the man was reading a text.

It could be anything. It could be the woman's boyfriend or mother checking up on her.

But Castle knew it wasn't for the woman. It was for him. It was Esposito.

The man lifted his head, his left hand twitched, and the barrel stopped tapping. Castle lifted himself into a crouch, slowly, eyeing the enemy.

A hand curled around the phone, his head cocked to look first at the woman still laid flat on the bed, and then to study Kate.

Castle used a finger to slide the crack in the door softly, softly, wider.

This was it.

The man took a step forward, bringing his back to Castle. He moved his head as if to peer around the lifted arm.

Castle nudged the door again, sized up the man, and cast one last, desperate gaze to Kate.

Her eyes were open. She was looking straight at him. Everything in her eyes, in her face was telling him no.

_Stay in the car, Castle._

Yeah, that never worked out for him.

Time to move.

Castle took a deep breath and lifted his hand, thighs flexed, pushed forward-

He heard the loud sputter of unmistakeable radio chatter from a police walkie just outside.

The man jerked towards the door at a fast clip even as Castle's forward momentum spilled him out of the bathroom. The killer was halfway out the door when their eyes met; the gun came up in the left hand-

A shout in the hallway; someone had discovered the fallen patients.

And then the man was gone, slipped out of the door, and the woman in the other bed had sat up straight, staring at him, but Castle didn't spare her a second glance.

"Beckett-"

"Don't ever-don't ever to do that again," she said, reaching for him as he went to her side. The baby in the bassinet was awake and fussing a little, but Kate wrapped her arm around Castle's neck and tugged him down against her. "Ever."

"Kate," he murmured into her neck, shuddering as he felt the damp heat of her blood at his shoulder. "Your stomach?"

"You hear me? Don't you ever do that again, Richard Castle."

He leaned back, peeled her left arm away from her body. The bandages were nearly black with her blood. "Oh God, Kate."

Her lips were purple, the tips of her fingers were white. She'd torn something, something major; he had to get her medical attention.

Right now.

"Don't ever. . .ever do that again," she murmured, and he felt the limpness of her arm at his neck.

"Let me find Esposito. A nurse. You need help."

He straightened up, grabbed the edge of the bassinet, and glanced over at the woman in the other bed.

"Is she okay? She doesn't look good."

Castle stared at her a second, felt the side of the bassinet under his palm. What had she said? She didn't want to see it before they took it away.

"She's bleeding," he said lamely, and glanced at the baby again. Then Kate, pale and huddled on the bed.

"I had a C-section too. If she pulled the stitches, that could be really bad you know. I read up on it."

"I've got to find a doctor."

He left the baby at Kate's side and ran for the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Serendipity**

* * *

><p>"Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen."<p>

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

* * *

><p>"I need help!"<p>

Castle ran from the room without checking first, barreled into someone who was racing down the hall, and both of them rebounded, stumbled, but Castle himself went down.

On one knee, hands against the floor, head swimming, Castle groaned and tried to push himself up.

"Castle!"

"Need help," he panted, getting his foot under him and standing. He swayed; hands reached for him.

"You sure do. Where's Beckett?"

It was Ryan. Thank God, it was Ryan. "In the room. Bleeding."

"I can tell. You've been shot," Ryan said, and Castle managed to focus on the face swimming in front of him. He knocked Ryan's hand off of his arm and glanced down the hall.

"The guy was right here." There was nothing now. Had that been Esposito chasing him?

Ryan was asking for a medic; Castle's head was pounding, burning. He blinked and stepped to the door he'd left open, felt his hand hit the door frame; it pulled him off-balance and he pitched forward.

Ryan caught the back of his shirt, giving him just enough counterbalance to regain his footing. Castle's knees were like jello all of the sudden, so he leaned against the door.

"Beckett first," he said, and pushed Ryan towards the far bed. "She's not good."

"Dude, seriously. *You* are not good."

"Ryan, help Beckett!"

He shoved the man towards the too-still bed. The woman who'd woken up lifted a hand. "Could I get some water?"

"A nurse will be along in just a minute," Ryan said, giving her an uncomfortable smile.

Castle pushed off the wall and used momentum to get him to Kate's side; Ryan was awkwardly trying to get her attention, ducking his head to see the wound.

"Is there a doctor-?" Castle said, leaning against the bed with both hands. His vision went black for a moment and the ground seemed to pull away from him, but he fought through it, struggled to stay upright. His tried to lock his elbows, but they kept buckling.

Gritting his teeth, Castle opened his eyes and reached for Kate's arm. "See?" When he lifted her hand away, limp and white, the crimson stain was visible.

"Medics on their way," Ryan said, but he did turn his back to speak into his walkie again, stepping away.

Castle clutched at her hand; Kate twitched below him.

"Kate?"

Her eyes opened slowly and Castle leaned over, felt the earth dragging at him. His knees were nearly touching the floor now.

"Castle. Need to get that looked at." She tried tugging her hand out of his grip but she didn't seem to have the strength for it. Castle felt his knees crack against the floor, but now he was eye level with her, and that was fine. Better, in fact.

"Medics coming," he said, but he could hear the fleshy sound of blood dripping from his ear, and a crunch, like a bone shifting. "You're not doing so good, Kate."

"I'm in a hospital. Can't be that bad," she said. She winced and drew her knees up a little, panting through pain even at that small movement. He stroked a finger across her kneecap.

"How bad's the pain?" he asked, half-joking, half-serious. His chin was resting against the sheet now, and it was just so much easier to lay his forehead against her knee, rest for a moment.

She didn't answer, but he felt her fingers touching his cheek, the uninjured one; the pads of her fingers sliding softly from his chin to his earlobe, back and around again, hypnotizing.

"The pain? Kate."

"As it always is," she whispered. "You're going to have a scar."

"Manly," he joked, but his eyes were closed now and the touch of her cool fingers felt so good against his skin. He let his chest lean against the bed, giving up. It was so hard to stay up on his knees like this, but for that touch. . .

"Piratey," she whispered, and her fingers curled involuntarily at his chin. He felt a puff of her breath against his shoulder, realized her pain had cycled up again. He wished he could-

The bang of a door flying open. Ryan's voice cut through his thoughts. "Right in here-"

"Let's get this one onto a backboard-"

"Looks like GSW. Cheekbone, ear-"

"Beckett," Castle said, feeling hands at his shoulders and hips, tugging him down and away. "She's bleeding-"

"Sir, can you tell me your name?"

"Make sure Beckett-"

"Sir, can you tell me your name?" A penlight flashed in his eyes, a neck brace was choking him. Castle lifted his hand only to have it pinned back down, jabbed with a needle. His shoulders restrained.

"Richard Castle," he said finally, frustrated. "Ryan? Ryan, damn it, make sure Beckett's-"

"She's already on her way out of here," Ryan said, his face suddenly hovering over his. "Let these guys help you."

"She was bleeding. A lot of blood-"

"Most of it was old. Just tore out her stitches, lots of pain. They've got her already, Castle." Ryan looked ill though. How could it really be that fine if Ryan looked so. . .pale?

"Sir, Mr. Castle? Can you tell me what day it is?"

He opened his mouth and felt a hot needle jab into the left side of his face. What ended up coming out of his mouth wasn't the day of the week but a gasp of surprise.

"Sir, can you tell me what day it is?"

He grit his teeth and felt his left shoulder jerk upwards, like someone was plucking the string of his nerve from the side of his face all the way down to his arm. Had they put a needle in his face?

"That hurts," he muttered. Every word was like a marble in his mouth, heavy and cold and awkward, rolling around his gums and clacking against his teeth. He tried to spit them out anyway. "Stop."

"Sir, can you tell me what day it is?"

"Course," he groaned. Words hurt. His jaw hurt. Cold steel in his jaw instead of bone. Hot needles in his cheek, around his eye sockets; fiery ants marching in a line down the tendon of his neck. A vise gripped him from cheekbone to shoulder, torqued, twisting tighter with every moment.

Course. Day. Today. It was. . .

"Sir-"

"Monday," he spit out, closing one eye because somehow that felt better. A bolt of lightning seared the side of his face, and he sucked in his breath.

"All right," said the medic, but Ryan had already blurted out: "It's Thursday!"

Right. "I knew it," he muttered and tried to lift a hand for a fist bump but things weren't working quite right.

The medic swam into view, the penlight again; Castle winced and kept that one eye closed, felt the floor moving away from him. He grunted, the air whispering over his ear and face like a blade. His good eye saw the ceiling tiles pass overhead and then the door frame, the hallway.

A confused voice from the room called after them. "Don't forget their baby! Hey, hey, officer! Their baby!"

Castle panicked, remembered the little fist around Kate's. "The baby," he groaned, needles grinding into his jaw. "Get the baby."

But that wasn't right either.


	6. Chapter 6

**Serendipity**

* * *

><p>"It will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about."<p>

-Haruki Murakami, 'Kafka on the Shore'

* * *

><p>Her father was there, holding a book and reading in the light spilling in the window. He looked old; lines marred his face, made chasms where there had been valleys before.<p>

"Dad," she croaked. Her body felt like it was held together with duct tape and barbed wire.

His eyes cut to hers; he dropped the book to his thigh and leaned in, touching her fingers. "Katie."

"What. . ." And she didn't even know what to ask; the world was a jumble in her head. She closed her eyes and teased out the last moment even as every breath caused the barbed wire to gouge her insides.

A room, running, the feel of his jarring steps as he carried her. Castle had carried her. Where? To a room, to be safe, only she'd been helpless, overcome with the tearing pain as the stitches pulled out, as her insides pushed inside out like a popple.

"Your wound re-opened," her father said sternly. "Tissue tore, muscles pulled away. I will be forever grateful to that man, but it did a number on your injury."

That man. "Castle. Was shot." She jerked upright, hissed as it pulled on her stomach and chest, too stiff, no give to it.

"Easy, easy," her father said. "Yes. He underwent some reconstructive surgery on his cheekbone and jaw; fragments chipped off when the bullet went by his head. It struck the lobe of his ear, tunneled up and out."

"It. . .went through?" Kate swallowed back a sudden urge to vomit, let her fingers explore the taut line of her breastbone down to the gauze wrapped around her middle. Had they put a steel plate in her ribs?

"No, no. Sorry. Wrong terminology, Katie. It. . .grazed him? Along the side of his face. He was okay until his adrenaline wore off, Ryan said. He was pretty coherent until then."

"Is he awake?" She could barely sit up in bed, but she felt she had an obligation towards him. He'd carried her out of there. "I've got to see him."

Her father slid a napkin into his book and placed it on the side of her bed, then stood up. "I've visited him a few times this morning. He's still sleeping off the anesthesia."

"His mother. Alexis?" The name made her chest ache; Kate curled an arm against her breastbone and pressed her palm against the top of her ribcage.

"They're there."

"Dad?" She wasn't going to beg. But she was already using her elbows as leverage, trying to be careful not to use her abdominal muscles. Almost impossible. She would have to rely on her father if she was going to make it.

"Let me see about getting a wheelchair. Katie, you'll have to sit up for the whole trip down."

"I've got physical therapy on Monday. Gotta get used to it, right?" She winced as she raised up on her elbow, blew a shaky breath out of her mouth.

Not bad yet. She glanced to the IV bag hanging on the pole. Halfway through, the best time to do anything, halfway through the painkillers.

"Not anymore you don't." He brushed the hair back from her forehead; she dodged his hand out of habit, flinched as her core muscles contracted with the movement.

"No PT on Monday? But I need-"

"No Katie. Not yet. This set you back a week."

"Dad. Get the chair." She gestured towards the hall. She'd have to talk to the PT about that; she needed to get back on her feet as soon as possible. Especially when hired killers were strolling through the hospital corridors, especially when Castle was doing stupid things like *throw* himself at hired killers instead of hiding in the bathroom like she'd told him.

"Don't push your luck," he admonished, leaning in to squeeze her fingers, kiss her forehead. "Before all this, Rick and I had talked about moving you to a clinic upstate with security he could easily-"

"No," she said severely, a warning in her voice. "Dad-"

"Katherine," he said back, his voice also a warning. "When he brought it up, I told him it wasn't necessary. But after this? I think he's right. You're just not going to be safe here."

She hooked her arm under her left thigh, tried using all bicep and tricep strength to maneuver her leg off the bed. She bit her lip when that proved impossible as well, the stiffness giving way to a burning pain. "I can't leave the city. I've got to be here when-"

"No matter what they do to beef up security, if someone is bound and determined to get you, they will. It's a rehab clinic-"

"No," she insisted, shaking her head and wincing as the movement of her neck strained her balance, causing her ab muscles to flex for stability. Shit, everything hurt.

Her father shot her a _mind me, young lady_ look. "Are you willing to put Rick in danger for this?"

Kate froze.

"You're going to let him continue to risk his life for a vengeance that isn't even his?"

Oh God.

"This isn't his fight, Katie."

She closed her eyes.

"They pulled a piece of his cheekbone out of the gunshot wound. The surgeon came out and showed it to Ms. Rodgers and his daughter. It looked like a tooth. That came out of his face-"

"I got it!" she shouted, opening her eyes to glare at him. Her lashes no longer held back the moisture and tears spilled over, staining her cheeks. "Damn it. You think I asked him-"

"Of course not," he immediately soothed. "And if you told him to stop, I know it wouldn't do any good. Sounds like someone else I know."

She gulped back another wave of anxiety, hating herself for it, and swallowed hard. "Dad. The wheelchair."

Her father watched her a moment longer, letting his words sink in. She flinched as a muscle spasmed in her back. Her whole body was out of alignment; she ached. She wanted to lay her head back and cry. But that would probably hurt worse and she didn't want Castle to see her eyes rimmed with red.

Castle's face. A piece of his cheekbone. His jaw. "How. . .how bad is the damage?"

"They've got his jaw wired shut till it heals," her father said, pressing the nurse's call button. "He needs a week in recovery before he gets outta here. Then some TLC at home, most likely. The surgeon said the left side of his jaw, where the hinge is, that's had to be set back in place."

Back in place? A week. And she'd have another week before therapy again, at least. They two of them in side by side hospital beds in some clinic in upstate New York. . .

And what about this latest shooter? At this rate, the man behind the curtain would just send one professional hit man after another, each one mopping up the messes of the one before.

She was doomed.

A nurse came in at that moment, brightened as she saw Beckett awake. "There you are, Detective. Good to see you up again."

"Ahh," Kate hesitated, glancing to her father for help. The woman wasn't familiar, but she'd misplaced a lot of her memories of nurses, doctors, this whole hospital.

"Kate, this is Marcy. She's been taking care of things since. . ."

At Jim Beckett's sudden awkwardness, and the flash of suppressed consternation in the woman's open face, Beckett realized that more had gone on than she knew.

"Since. . .the shooter got in?" she guessed, watching Marcy's face for the tell. There it was, the twitch of her chin down, as if taking an imaginary blow. "Who. . .who else was injured?"

"A new father on the maternity ward was pistol whipped-"

"Oh God," Kate breathed, closing her eyes. "Oh, God, there was a baby. Was there a baby? I remember a baby-"

"Don't worry, Detective," Marcy said, rushing to her side and clutching at Kate's shoulders, keeping her from moving. "She'd been wheeled in to visit her momma, but turns out the mother was giving her up for adoption and didn't even know she was in there. Still, anyway, everyone down on Surge heard Mr. Castle putting up a fuss about that poor thing, and we all thought it was so sweet-"

Kate gritted her teeth and glanced to her father for help; she couldn't endure this a second longer.

Jim cut her off with a smile. "Marcy, my daughter has it in her head that she's got to see Mr. Castle today, so she can be there when he wakes-"

She hadn't said that at all, not one bit. Here her father was putting words in her mouth-

"Well. . ." Marcy drawled out, her eyes crinkling at the corners with indecision. "They haven't put in your chart that you're on restricted movement, but they shoulda. Sweetheart, you are going to hurt when your meds wear off if you're still downstairs-"

Kate leaned her head back and tried not to let her blood pressure spike; she'd been warned before. "I just-"

Her father interrupted. "Can we get a wheelchair, Marcy? Just a quick visit."

"I might could get you one. Mr. Castle was just so sweet, hollering after that baby, then telling us to come get you first, Ms. Beckett. I mean, our trauma unit were the responders to the call for a medic, of course, and they already had you hustled off to emergency surgery to repair the damage-"

Oh, holy hell, would this woman not shut up? Kate squeezed her eyes shut.

"Only the blood loss was making Mr. Castle confused, and he didn't seem to realize that we already were working on fixing you up-"

"Yes," Kate jumped in, seeing her moment. "That's why I need to get down there now. He'll do something stupid trying to get to me, to find me. I've got to nip that in the bud. You understand?"

"Oh, of course, Detective. That makes perfect sense. Ya'll are just too cute," she said, crinkling her nose and spinning on her heel back to the door. "I'll just go get your ride."

Kate let out a long breath and finally met her father's eyes. She expected to see him laughing at her (it was the kind of thing he found amusing: Kate getting put out), but he wasn't.

He looked grave.

"Dad?"

He stared at her for a second longer. "It could've been so much worse, sweetheart."

Her eyebrows knit together in fierce concentration, willing her grief away. "I know, Dad."

"If he hadn't carried you out of there, Katie-"

"I know, Dad."

"You can't let this one go. You hear me? You can't make it for nothing."

She didn't answer. Because she wasn't sure what he meant: what Castle had done for her, or the man himself?


	7. Chapter 7

**Serendipity**

* * *

><p>"It is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear."<p>

-Charlotte Bronte

* * *

><p>An officer in plainclothes was stationed outside her door; he didn't introduce himself, and Kate didn't know him, so they merely nodded to each other as Jim rolled her by. But he was huge and imposing; if he were green and wore a tattered shirt, she'd know exactly who he was.<p>

She sighed. Her brain was still swimming in happy juice, it seemed. She couldn't quite get ahold of her thoughts. But Castle's room was only a couple doors down, and Esposito and Ryan were both sitting outside. Seeing their tension-filled faces helped clear her mind.

"Yo, Beckett-"

"Boss," Ryan added, standing with Esposito as she was wheeled up. "Mr. Beckett, could we, uh, have a word?"

Jim glanced down at Kate, then gestured towards Castle's door with his chin. "I'll go on in, then."

"Thanks, Dad," Kate offered, but her eyes were on Ryan. She wouldn't ever tell him this, but he was the first one to crack, and she needed information. "Ryan."

But Esposito took it up first. "He's in the wind."

She grimaced. "Tell me about security, first."

"We're gonna keep you both in Post-Op here, smaller section to control, for the duration."

"Plainclothes outside my door, huh?" Beckett added, jerking her head towards the guy behind her. Her body rippled and she tried not to show how much she felt it, clutching at the arms of the wheelchair. If she felt one iota better, she'd be on her feet for this. But, holy hell, she felt like shit.

"No." Esposito shook his head, but said nothing further. "But it's taken care of. We aren't. . .sure of who to trust."

She stared at him, certain there was more to that, but her brain was like mush with the onset of pain, and she couldn't pull all the little pieces together like she usually did. "How are we on IDing this guy?"

Ryan frowned. "We've got the sketch artist here if you're up to it-"

"I never saw his face. He shot at us from down the hallway, and then when he came into the room, I was turned on my side. Castle saw him."

"He's in with Castle now. Kinda hard though, cause Castle can't talk to us."

"He awake?"

"Yup," Esposito said, grinning at her.

Beckett ignored it. "No good sketch, huh? Any chance the crime scene guys will get prints?"

"I had them try, just in case, but there's literally thousands. Everything's so smudged, one layered right on top of another. . ." Esposito shrugged at her.

"Maybe we could have Castle look at a photo array?" She shook her head at her own suggestion, little butterfly wings of pain fluttering in her stomach. "Jeez, it's a long shot. This guy is a professional; he won't have an arrest record. Damn, we're at a dead end and I want this guy-"

"We got a plan, actually," Ryan interjected. "But uh. . .how much has Castle told you?"

"I haven't seen him yet," she said distractedly, frustrated with how sluggish her mind was working, still not sharp as she muddled her way through pain meds and anesthesia and who knew what else.

"Not about this guy, about. . .about the whole thing."

Beckett whipped her head up to look at the two of them, regretting it in an instant as her stomach muscles contracted to keep her torso upright, sending burning waves along her body. She squinted her eyes and hissed. "Ah. . .whole thing? What exactly is this plan?"

"Castle's got private security. That's who he is-" Esposito jerked his head towards the hulk outside her door. "And an exit strategy. You guys will be secluded at a place he found upstate; well, now Castle will be having some recoup time too, right alongside you. I'm sure he can adapt the plan to accommodate that."

"You three talked about this." She pressed a hand to her abdomen cautiously, pressed at the side of her bandages, hoping for relief.

"We've talked a lot," Ryan admitted, then glanced over at Esposito as if asking for permission. "And uh, we know Castle was about to tell you this himself, but now that he really can't. . .it falls on us."

"So he has some plan in place, so what-"

"No, not about that. About. . .what we've been doing these last couple of weeks."

Kate shifted her eyes slowly to Esposito, waiting for his tell but it didn't come. He was poker-faced and resolute. She sighed. "What've you been doing?"

Esposito gave Ryan a silencing look and spoke for the two of them himself. "When you were in the hospital, Alexis brought us some mail that Castle had gotten. She hadn't opened it herself, but she said she was wary of packages ever since. . ."

Kate nodded, wished they'd get to the point-

"We opened it. Not because it looked suspicious, but because it was from Montgomery."

She sucked in a breath, tried to combat the sudden wave of dizziness that swept over her.

"He named the guy, Beckett," Ryan said softly, leaning over to put a hand on the arm of the wheelchair as she hunched down, holding herself in. "We told Castle it was up to him whether or not he shared, but we all made a promise to tell you the second we made progress."

"And this is progress?" she whispered, not able to look at them.

"It's something. There's movement, and they're making a pre-emptive strike here."

"Next time might kill me. Kill him," she answered the unasked question.

"You've got to take the escape route, Beckett." This time it was Ryan urging her as he leaned over the chair. If he touched her, she was going to scream.

"You guys have known. This whole time?"

"Since. . .well, since Alexis brought it to us a couple weeks ago. Not long."

"Long enough." She kept her eyes on her knees, both arms clutched around her middle struggling to think. She wanted to hit someone.

They took it differently than she intended, their eyes sparking up in excitement. "Long enough to find a couple of people, set tails on them, learn the patterns, figure out what this whole show is about."

"You gonna tell me what's going on, Esposito, or you gonna keep talking in circles around me? I'm fucking tired, and I'm dizzy from the meds, and I've just found out that you all were keeping secrets like a group of immature third graders-"

"Castle wanted to tell you at the right time, but-"

"So tell me now," she grit out. God, how she wanted to stand up and kick both their asses for this.

"We kept wondering why all this? Right, Ryan? Why set up the whole thing, why have guys like Raglan and McAllister on your payroll?"

"Espo-"

"Look, Montgomery left his notes detailing years, decades of blackmail and payoffs. We've just been corroborating this stuff, Beckett. He'd get a notice from his bank saying X amount had been deposited into his account, and he wrote it all down to prove he had nothing to do with this guy. He kept records."

"What guy. Who, Esposito, who is it?" Black spots danced in front of her eyes.

"We've had to go about this slowly, carefully, no stirring the waters. But our problem has always been, what good is it to blackmail these three stupid police officers out of a few thousand dollars? Why keep them on the payroll, like the Captain showed, if you're not gonna need them for something? Captain might've said no when he was told to do this or that, but the other two got rich off this guy."

Her head was swimming again; her body was slipping away from the fingers of her mind. She blinked her eyes rapidly to regain her awareness, felt the IV hooked on a pole behind her actually pumping pain medicine into all the little places, flush with painless sleep, trying to drag her away.

She wanted to lie down; she needed to know, needed to see him for herself. And then lie down.

Esposito was still going. "So he's got to be masterminding something, got to be the head of some kind of criminal enterprise. So we've started tailing all these guys trying to work out what it might be, why it's worth leaving a mob hitman in jail for decades and shooting your mom just to make sure he doesn't get out-"

Kate struggled to stay upright, her elbows tight against the armrests. Skip the long-winded story. "Just tell me who he is."

Ryan looked ready to narc, but Esposito shook his head. "Let Castle tell you that. Explain that to you." And then he was pushing her into Castle's room, Ryan propping the door open.

Castle was on the bed, his face nearly hidden in bandages and lines, but his eyes active, seeking her out.

He lifted a finger in salute, and she caught her breath while Esposito pushed her in close, displacing Alexis.

He seemed anxious to hear her opinion, and she was caught somewhere between pissed at his hiding things from her and pissed at his getting injured for her. One good, one bad, and somewhere in the middle of that, she settled on warily relieved.

She lifted her arm with a wince and stroked the fingers resting on top of his comforter. He made a motion with his free hand to Alexis, who held a collection of index cards and a sharpie in one hand. Alexis shuffled through the cards until she found what her father seemed to be looking for.

Alexis flipped it over and held it up to Kate. "We've got a system going. He's already got forty-three written responses."

Kate read the card: _How do you like my cool police scars?_

She sighed but couldn't help playing his game.

"Adds new meaning to ruggedly handsome, doesn't it?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Serendipity**

* * *

><p>"The curves of your lips rewrite history."<p>

-Oscar Wilde

* * *

><p>For a man with his jaw wired shut, Castle still had a hell of a lot to say.<p>

They made twenty more cards with Alexis's help while his mother and her father went out to pick up dinner for everyone who could eat. The index cards were spread across his bed; he was covered in words and phrases, answers without questions, so that he had only to lay a finger on one to make himself heard.

Dinner was Chinese takeout, which smelled heavenly, but its arrival meant Ryan and Esposito couldn't focus on Beckett's irritated questions long enough for her to get a straight answer (or they were being purposefully dense). Martha invited the group to the waiting room for a makeshift dinner party.

This excluded Castle and Beckett both, so they pouted (Castle pouted) and kicked everyone else out of his room in retaliation, his daughter included. Alexis looked like she was going to park it in the chair beside her father's bed, but Beckett was ready to beg the girl for a few minutes alone with Castle. She hadn't realized, until now, that she knew exactly what she needed to say to him, had to say to him, and she didn't want anyone else around.

All she had to do was turn her eyes on Alexis, and the girl relented with a sigh.

So apparently, Kate had lost all control of her facial expressions. She squeezed Alexis's hand as the young woman passed, a silent thanks, and then waited until the room had been cleared before she reached out and let her fingers brush against his. The wheelchair was as snug against his bed as her father had been able to make it, and she was strangely grateful that no distance separated them now.

He was watching her, wordless, but not without sounds. Murmurs without substance, sibilants and fricatives which weaved together in the air around them like he was casting a spell.

She was willing to believe in this kind of magic.

He was on good pain medicine, she knew, and his eyes weren't able to hold hers for very long before they rolled around the room, flickering from place to place, but always coming back to hers to rest. She let the wordlessness go on, while the sound of his humming, grumbling, vibrating voice let itself be heard.

Finally she squeezed his hand.

He was quiet.

"I won't be able to take this for much longer," she admitted, tilting her head back against the look in his eyes. Her breaths were shallow because she didn't have the guts to expand her lungs; pain lit up her insides like heat lightning whenever she moved, distant, silent, but a warning of the storm to come.

She looked back at him, he was fingering a card, propping it up against his thigh as he watched her.

_Ditto._

And he did look so tired. He'd been putting on a good show for his daughter, she realized. The lines of his face were deeper now, shadowed, and he was struggling to keep his eyes from closing.

"I need you to tell me who he is."

Castle let his free hand travel along his body until he came to rest on the _Yes_ at his chest. He fluttered his hand around in the air as if to say _Get me a pen_.

Kate glanced to the empty chair with sudden horror; Alexis had left the index cards and the marker on the counter by the sink. She blinked, then met Castle's eyes.

He looked amused. She was not. She needed to know. She had to know.

This was her life.

Kate pulled her hand back from his and rested it against the side of the bed for a moment, her palm flat as she worked to gather her courage. It was going to hurt; it was going to be excruciating. But she needed to know. She took another slow, shallow breath, then she pushed off against the side of his bed.

Heat lightning became jagged bolts of cloud-scorching electricity, lighting up her nerves.

At the same moment, Castle jerked forward with a wordless grunt, snatching at her hand to collapse her forward. She fell on her face against his bed and panted into the covers, eyes squeezed shut. Pieces of herself broke off into the storm and swirled out of reach.

Any kind of exertion, any kind at all, required her abdominal muscles, and so wheeling herself around the bed to that stack of cards, the marker, was never going to happen.

When enough of her consciousness gathered itself back together, she realized that something was fluttering against her ear, flapping, back and forth, disturbing her hair, catching her eyebrow.

She rolled onto her cheek to look.

Castle was hitting her with an index card, over and over, his face livid.

_No._

_No._

_No._

She watched the word on the downswing and quirked her lips involuntarily, let loose a puff of air that might have been laughter if she hadn't just gutted herself on that last move.

She closed her eyes and smiled though, let him see it, and left her head resting against his hip, his upper thigh, cradled in the place where they met. She felt the index card paint her cheek, her lips, her chin, and then his fingers were in her hair, like he was dispensing benediction.

"I don't have a pen," she explained, huffing out a breath as his fingers stroked along her ear. "But yeah, that hurt. Stupid idea."

Another rumble from Castle, and then that oddly comforting hum that seemed to emanate from his chest and vibrate right through her bones. She opened her eyes, found Castle watching her intently, putting the whole force of his will behind that stare.

"This is killing you, isn't it?" She managed to lift her arm and touch the round curve of his rib at her eye level. "You have too much to say. And no voice to say it."

He hummed again, brushed against the _Yes_ card, then the _No_, then the _Yes_ again. She was too tired to interpret, but she let her finger trace the path of his rib to the center of his chest, and then back down again.

His arm rested at his side, laying across her neck so that, with his curled fingers, he barely brushed the back of her head. His humming didn't stop, just changed tone and pitch occasionally as he sleepily stroked her hair, like one of his usual Castle soliloquies, without words but not without meaning.

Maybe that's what he meant by yes and no both.

He held the answer she needed, but it was trapped somewhere between them. In a pen or index card not yet written. She wanted to cry, but that would signal some kind of defeat, and this felt as far from defeat as it could be while still in a hospital, sitting at the bedside of someone you loved who'd been shot.

She sat up, surprised, and looked at him.

He looked equally startled, even though she was certain she'd been saying nothing out loud.

She stared at him, but he was gesturing to a card with his hand, then reached out to tug on her ear.

_Listen._

She laughed, winced as it vibrated and pulled in her guts, and squeezed one eye shut to ride out the tremors. With the other still open, she watched him.

_Joking._

What did that mean?

But he was shaking his head, using his finger now to circle the word, no, to circle the letter.

_J_.

"J," she whispered, lifting an eyebrow at him.

Castle hummed in agreement and moved to _I Love You_, tapping the last word.

Her chest was too tight; she didn't meet his eye. She watched his finger tapping the word, over and over, and then circle that y-o-u with a little grunt for attention. Was that her heart pounding loudly in the room, filling her head with noise?

He had made Alexis write out two of those cards, twins, and he'd hugged her with one in each hand, embracing her with _I love yous_. She wished-

No. Pay attention. "You? J. You?"

He made a motion with his hand that she'd seen on the set of the Nikki Heat movie earlier this year. _Hurry up_. She raised an eyebrow and glared at him a second before it hit her.

"J-U." She smirked back at him. "You're spelling. Got it. J-U what?"

He circled D in _Ditto_; she repeated it back. He skimmed his hand over his body searching for another card, looking anxious.

Most were single words: b_athroom, water, help, yes, no, mother, alexis, kate_. A few phrases that he'd made Alexis write out for him, because he'd tried to be silly with his daughter in an effort to cheer her up: _Don't worry, I love you, You wound me, Hey pumpkin, Make me a new card_. He'd written a few himself, but his handwriting had been shaky, his frustration evident, and Alexis had taken over.

Castle grunted at her and she raised her eyes to him. He shook his head back and forth.

"J-U-D what, Castle?"

He wrinkled his brow at her, skimmed his hand over all the cards and then shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh. The letter isn't here?"

He nodded happily. He was still half-reclining in the bed, and his eyes struggled again to keep him with her. She was weary herself; she couldn't seem to lift her head off the bed, and the way his left hand had molded itself to the back of her skull felt good, drugging-

He nudged her, grunting again, and she opened her eyes, surprised they'd been closed.

Castle was using his right hand to tap on her name.

"I'm awake."

He circled the A in _kate_.

"A?"

His hand flew to _bathroom_.

"B. A-B."

Then the one at his right thigh: _Make me a new card_.

"C. A-B-C? Oh. ABCs. Um. Okay, well, if we've got A and B and C here, then it's not those. And you said, J-U-D, so it's not D. Um, we've got the E in _Yes_. F. . .?"

He tapped _No_.

"G?"

_Yes._

"J-U-D-G?"

He blinked, tapped. _Yes_, again. His hand skimmed-

"Judge?" she guessed, lifting her head from his hip, despite how it tugged on her stomach wound. "Judge. You're spelling judge."

He splayed his hand over _Yes_ and regarded her seriously. No laugh lines in that face now, just shadows, and darkness, and a knowledge he didn't want to bear.

"One of my judges," she said softly. One of the judges she used for warrants.

His head was heavy over _Yes_.

"Which one?"

He moved again; her heart thudded too hard in her poor, mangled chest. Dizziness swamped her and she blinked to keep Castle in focus.

_Mother._

His finger circled the M over and over, round and round, almost sensuous, and her mouth went dry.

Judge M.

Judge Markway.

She took a shallow breath and raised her eyes to his; he knew, he knew she understood. His fingers abandoned the card and moved again, trembling with an exhaustion that she felt echoed in her soul.

_Kate._

He tapped it again.

_Kate._

_Kate._

_Kate._

She let her head fall back to his hip, shifted her hand to capture his still tapping fingers, curled around them in a fist to keep him from the cards.

Silence.

Their hands joined and rested against his belly; his other hand threaded through the strands of her hair until the pads of his fingers made contact with her skull, points of heat and warmth.

Was this being broken?

No.

She opened her eyes and looked at Castle, but his were closed, his head tilted back as if unable to bear it a second longer. His murmurs had ceased, his humming was gone.

She shook off his hand, and he didn't stir; she could tell he was awake. His awareness was with her in the room. She fumbled on the bed a moment, searching for the right cards, unable to move far as her stomach sent ripples of pain through her.

She found the first card and pushed it into his hand, closed his fingers around it. His eyes opened.

She tapped the edge of the card until he lifted his head and opened his hand, the little white card now revealed, the black marker definite.

She put its twin on top of it, one layer after another, pressed it into his palm with her thumb as if marking him.

_I love you._

and

_I love you._


End file.
